Lyrical Breakdown of Guaranteed Raw - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Guaranteed Raw" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how The Notorious B.I.G. weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Guaranteed Raw" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
• Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that The Notorious B.I.G. employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
• Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to The Notorious B.I.G.'s narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Guaranteed Raw" not only celebrates The Notorious B.I.G.'s artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

[Intro] Chill Twan, damn man! That nigga Big got somethin to say? Yo Big, what'chu got to say Big? [Notorious B.I.G.] Yeah... yeah... Special shoutout to my man MC Homicide and DJ Fatal Twin one and two my man Milk My man Fred Dawg, the O.G.B. crew Y'all know how we flow And I'ma drop it like this y'all Oh what a feeling! Drivin in my four by four Girlies galore, B.I.G. on the door Chrome trimming, with the smoke tint Givin chumps a hit, as I count my mint Stacks of doves, half my mans is C-note All from sayin rhymes that B.I.G. wrote Blunt, I take a toke, but only if it's weed Skunk with no seeds, a sip of Hennessy Pass to D, or maybe movin solo Never with a skeezer by my side, that's a no-no Tell me I ain't the flyest nigga that you ever saw Live in action, guaranteed RAW~! "Who's coming through? Y'all know who!" Bed-Stuy Brooklyn where this rapper was originated Your rhymes ain't shit; they must be constipated Many awaited, the heavyset brother from Fulton Street to drop a rhyme to a funky beat Expellin MC's as if I was at Sarah J Or boys and girls at any school around the way Opponents, pupils, but I'm the principal Hard to beat, damn near invincible Niggaz wanna know, how I live the mack life Makin money smokin mics like crack pipes Flippin bombs, stayin calm, givin my people my palm and sayin rhymes to set off the alarm! Yes it's me, the B.I.G. Competition ripper ever since 13 Used to steal clothes was considered a thief Until I started hustlin on Fulton Street Makin loot, knockin boots on the regular Pass the microphone I'm the perfect competitor Jewels and all that, my clothes is all that Chumps steppin to me, that's where they took a FALL at! B.I.G. without burner, that's unheard of I stay close to mine like Tina on Turner Quick to smother, a punk motherfucker Undercover, word to mother, I'm above ya And I love ya, cause you're a sweet bitch A crazy crab, you might make my dick itch I flow looser than Luther, words ya get used ta B.I.G. is a born, trooper Like ice cream I scoop ya, my music you wanna get loose ta Stay pimp, and I'm not a booster So what'cha got to say? This mackin word is bond There's no other assumption, I got it goin on I'm not conceited, my friends tell me this Even my mother, be noddin her head to this Makes her proud to see her one son get loud Flip on a sucker, and bow to the crowd Drink a little Hennessy, smoke a blunt or 2 or 3 or 4 Live in action, guaranteed RAW Round two the rhyme regulator here to roast ya As ya follow this yeah, I gave a toast to ya crew See, they popped on ya like a kernel You didn't realize that the beef was eternal Internal injury that's what you're soon to see B.I.G. keep company Sometimes in my waist, if they come opponent Run upstairs, change my skimmer and my coat and I'm floatin, to your punk part of town Anybody frontin, they better duck down Don't get mad cause I grazed ya You jumped in that 4-door Blazer, quick I couldn't get a good hit Shit, I was aimin for the melon But the kick of my three-pound auto there's no tellin Drink a little Hennessy, smoke a blunt or 2 or 3 or 4 Live in action, guaranteed RAW And you don't stop, and you don't stop You keep on To my man Milk, and Thai Like I said before the whole O.G.B. is in full effect [Outro] Most definitely Sent a shout on To the freestyle Born Allah Yeah that bum-ass nigga from Avenue Q (Yeah yeah)